


Touch

by bccalling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s12e02 Mamma Mia, M/M, Season/Series 12, Wincest - Freeform, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8618959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bccalling/pseuds/bccalling
Summary: Sometimes Sam watches Dean.





	

Sometimes Sam just watches Dean. Eyes locked on his big brother from afar. Dean lets his guard down, sometimes, when no one’s looking. Not often. His big brother doesn’t like to feel vulnerable, Sam knows. Dean used to be better at vulnerability. But now, after battle hardened years that have left them both broken and weary, sometimes with one another, Dean doesn’t let Sam _see_ as much anymore.

Sam misses that soft, vulnerable version of Dean. The one who used to pretend that he hated opening up, who insisted on ‘no chick flick moments.’ But it used to be just that–pretend.

In the years since, though, Dean’s gotten better and better at hiding, at keeping it all in and pretending he needs no one but himself for his own mental stability.

But Sam knows better. Because he knows to look.

Two nights ago, Dean had stood, tall and nervous, with sad eyes and a worried set to his jaw, hovering beside Sam’s bed through half the night. Because Dean doesn’t like to ask about the hurt–he’s had his share of it himself and he knows that sometimes it’s hard to open up. So he’ll wait until Sam’s ready to talk, but that won’t stop the worry.

For Dean, that manifests in hovering and caring and extra gentle little touches that he thinks Sam won’t notice. He’ll stand beside Sam’s bed and bring Sam breakfast every morning, brush his fingers over Sam’s every time he passes a cup of coffee or a beer bottle.

Sam knows Dean’s trying to make sure Sam’s really there and really real and really, truly okay.

It’s funny, Sam thinks, as he watches Dean from the doorframe. Sam feels like everyone else sees this silly, carefree young man who’s not quite serious enough but still so charming. But Sam? Sam sees through that. And sometimes he just wants to take Dean into his arms and tuck him away from the rest of the world.

“I can practically feel you breathing down my neck, Casper.” Dean breaks the silence, but his eyes never raise from the book in front of him. "If you’re gonna stare at me, could you at least _pretend_ to make yourself useful?“

Sam smiles at Dean’s playfully sarcastic tone and steps forward into their library, settling himself across from his brother.

“You looked busy,” Sam offers with a little swagger. “Didn’t want to distract you or anything.”

Dean shakes his head and scoffs a little, but the smile on his lips betrays his humor.

Sam watches Dean for a moment, as his brother continues to peruse the texts he’s scanning. Sam loves watching his brother read. Knows Dean actually enjoys it more than he lets on; knows his brother loves learning, especially about the hunt, no matter how hard Dean tries to convince him otherwise.

Dean’s distracted, though. Sam sees it in the way Dean’s fingers ruffle the page edges and the way Dean chews subconsciously at his lower lip.

When Dean’s eyes glance quickly in Sam’s direction, Sam lets a little smile touch his lips.

Dean’s worried, Sam knows. Sam’s not the only one who watches.

"Dean?” Sam asks, voice gentle. He waits for a moment for Dean to respond–just a lift of his brother’s eyes. “Dean, I’m okay.”

There’s a touch of concern and maybe even a hint of fear in Dean’s eyes as they remain trained on Sam. “Sammy,” Dean starts with a little shake of his head, “you don’t have to pretend. I want to know if you’re hurting. I want to help.”

That makes Sam smile genuinely as he leans forward to rest his hand over Dean’s. “Dean, I really am okay. Now that I have you back. And mom. The torture–it was bad. But I’ve been through worse and walked away. I might want to talk about it sometime, but right now, I just want to be here, happy, with my family, okay?”

Dean meets Sam’s eyes, and there’s still a ghost of concern dancing at the corners of Dean’s eyes, but Sam’s not sure that concern has ever not been there. It takes a moment, but Dean finally nods in affirmation. “Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he murmurs soft, “as long as you’re sure you’re okay. And as long as you come to me if you need me, Sam.”

Sam smiles a bit, fingers tightening around Dean’s in a gentle little squeeze of reassurance. “I promise,” Sam insists, watching as Dean studies his face for any hint of deception. Sam sees the moment Dean accepts the response, watches as he breathes a soft sigh of relief. “Okay?”

There’s a little nod from Dean, and a gentle smile mirrored on Sam’s face, as Sam leans across the table to press his lips to Dean’s, his fingers slipping through his brother’s hair to curl gentle around the back of Dean’s neck.

Sometimes Sam watches Dean. Sometimes, though, all they really need is touch.

And Sam has never been good at denying Dean what he needs.


End file.
